(first published 5/13/2012) Australian cars have been an endless source of fascination for me and so many other American car enthusiasts. It’s an alternate reality down under: the cars look so familiar, yet they’re obviously different. It’s kind of like running into long-forgotten members of one’s family, but with some kind of a genetic problem. You know they’re kin, but there’s something decidedly…odd.

It’s understandable, as Australia has long become a dumping ground for rejected Detroit designs and technology. None more so than the ZXGLQ-FU Fairlane; as unbelievable as it may seem today, this bulging, melting, rolling carbuncle on wheels was actually designed in Dearborn to be the all-new American 1972 Torino. How it came to be killed off at the last minute and exiled to Australia, where it’s become a living legend with its amazing FEMI™ engine, has been one of the great untold stories of automotive history. No longer.

Before we delve into that, let’s just spend a moment taking this exotic car in, which I’m utterly at a loss to explain how it ended up in Eugene, Oregon. Whatever; in situations like this, its best to just silence the internal dialog, questions and doubts, and really see this car. If we squint a bit and look at its confused lines and bizarre shape, we can hope to find something trying to emerge. Or is the only thing trying to emerge the cancerous growth of its protuberances? Sadly, its design language has long been lost to history; whatever its creators were trying to say is indecipherable. And always was.

The closest thing might be “I wish I could be a proper genuine big American luxury car, like an LTD, along with some ridiculous hint of sportiness!” Ha! Fat chance, trying to emulate that paragon of design refinement and stylistic masterpiece. The 1971 – 1972 big Fords certainly caused a sensation when they arrived,

with their revolutionary and brilliantly original front ends that simply blew away the finest European designers and inspired Pininfarina’s famous knock-off, the Ferrari 875 Limitido.

Back to reality. On Dec. 31, 1970, Henry Ford II and the lovely Cristina attended a jet-set New Years Eve bash in a castle in Monte Carlo. Unbeknownst to him, the punch bowl was spiked with LSD. Henry being a man of considerable thirst, ingested more than an average dose. Vivid images of Ford’s future product portfolio swirled in his mind’s very expanded eye, and not in a good way. 1972 Torinos, 1973 LTDs and Marquis, and Continental Mark IVs pressed in on him, with even more exaggerated proportions (if that’s imaginable), causing him increasing distress.

But then Henry saw all the future Fords begin to merge in what was initially an amorphous giant blob, a Jabba the hut covered in vinyl. And then it began to take on a new shape, in the form of a monster or dragon, with piercing red eyes behind hidden headlight covers that were in the usual failed open position, thousands of twinkling opera lamps along its flanks of padded vinyl, and a gaping maw that was the size of Mark IV’s fake RR grille a thousand time over. As he stared at it, he realized it had a name and persona: this was the Great Brougham Dragon! And it was Henry’s own creation, having unleashed it in 1965.

But now it was turning on him! Or rather, his company. He could literally see the Great Brougham Dragon devouring Ford Motors year by year, getting fatter and uglier and more obscene as the cars got fatter and uglier and more obscene. And when the beast got to 1979, Hank could see his company being swallowed up whole; gone! Bankrupt!

Henry knew what he had to do: kill it, or it would kill Ford. He rose from his chair, grabbed a giant antique standing lamp, thrust it forwards, and ran across the crowded room through the crowds of gay revelers and smashed it into the head of a mythical dragon depicted on a medieval tapestry hanging on the opposite wall. It made quite an impression on the guests indeed, and Henry ended up writing a hefty check for the irreplaceable tapestry. But the Great Brougham Monster was slain, laying in a rumpled pile on the floor, sliced into shreds, with shards of glass everywhere.

The next morning, he called a young BMW executive, Robert Lutz, and told him the company was his to run with a clean slate, and that BMW should be the inspiration of all future Fords. The whole Ford future product portfolio for the rest of the decade was cancelled by Henry at the next board meeting. It was called the “Great Ford Enlightenment”, although at Ford headquarters, many thought Hank had fallen off his rocker, especially when he subsequently retired to Taos. But by 1978, Ford surpassed GM. And BMW got out of the automobile sector by 1983, to concentrate on motorcycles. But you know all this.

The planned new 1972 Torino was of course cancelled, the outgoing version was carried over one more year, until the all-new 1973 Ford Torino was ready. It rocked the world, with its clean, tight lines, and advanced engineering.

The 1973 LTD was replaced by the similarly clean and progressive Galaxy.

And the new 1974 Falcon replaced the Maverick. The design mandate for all of them was to be at least five years ahead of the European competition, never mind the American ones. Amazingly, they pulled that off. And the rest is history.

Which that explains this abomination. Yes, it’s hard to believe or imagine now, but this is what Ford had planned to compete with in what soon became the best selling size of cars in the US. The Great Ford Enlightenment spared us at the last moment, but the tooling had been ordered, the dies were cast (literally), and so the whole kit-caboodle was shipped off to…you guessed it: Australia. Never again would an oversized, overweight wallowing barge of a “mid-sized” car sully Ford’s US showrooms.

Fortunately the Ozzies are a resourceful bunch, even with Detroit’s rejects. The marshmallow suspension received the obligatory strengthening and triple shocks at each corner to make it outback-compatible, although no one will ever accuse the ZXGLQ-FU Series Fairlane of being a fine-handling machine. One can only do so much with a car that was designed with the bad old Ford mantra of a quiet soft ride at the expense of any handling prowess whatsoever. What those poor bastards in Australia had to put up with, trying to tame this flopping beast with its ridiculous “love handle” overhangs into submission.

But it was under the Fairlane’s vast hood where Ford Australia’s engineers really pulled out all the stops. Having been denied V8 engines forever, they were well versed in the magic that proper breathing could bring to the wheeziest of Dearborn’s feeble sixes. The Falcon six cross-flow Ozzie head was already legendary on the track and street. But the Fairlane/almost Torino was an obese turd, weighing some 4000 lbs or more, thanks to Dearborn’s relentless efforts to make it ride as quietly and softly as a Lincoln. The little Falcon block just wasn’t going to cut it. Australia begged for “the long-stroke six”, meaning the 250 incher tall-deck six, since there was no more use for it in the US. In a cruel joke, Ford did send a “long stroke six”, but it was hardly what the Australians had in mind.

In a dusty warehouse, someone uncovered the tooling for the G and H series flathead six, the engine that couldn’t be built until Henry Ford’s dementia was so advanced he couldn’t count spark plugs anymore. Old Henry wouldn’t countenance a six, ever since his failed Ford Model K of 1906. The G series six finally appeared in 1941, and in many ways, it was a better engine than the flathead V8, but it just never got its due recognition or caught on with the hot rod set. By 1941 there were millions of Ford V8s available for chump change, and hot rods parts for it were ubiquitous. But with a massive 4.40″ stroke and 226 cubic inches, it had a healthier torque curve than the V8, peaking at 180 lb.ft. at all of 1200 rpm! Just the ticket for the Ozzie Fairlane! Here’s a long stroke six for you guys; hardie-har-har!

This was just another kick below the belt that Ford Australia was by now well used to. So if given lemons, make lemonade. Stump-pulling off-the-line torque is nice, but this was 1973, not 1941, when the six had been rated at 90 hp. More power had to be found somehow. The down-under solution was brilliant, utterly unique, and baffled engine experts around the globe. It still does.

The intrepid Ford Australia engineers created a new cylinder head for the flathead 226 six that simply astounds, given that it seems so improbable, if not downright unworkable. One of the engineers had gotten his hands on a foreign car magazine and read something about the advantages of four-valve heads. Given that the article lacked pictures, and the concept was unheard of in Australia, the engineers were on their own in figuring it out.

The only solution they could see in creating a four-valve head was to take a classic two-valve hemi head (blatantly ripped off from Chysler) and slap it (with an offset) on the flat-head six; hey, it had twice the number of valves, so it had to be twice as good, right? The best of a Chrysler hemi and a Ford flathead all rolled into one! Making the manifold plumbing and valve gear all work was a bit of a nightmare, especially for a pushrod engine, but where there’s a will there’s a way. The Ozzies do have a rep for being deft plumbers, with the best flushing loos in the Southern hemi-sphere, even if they can’t get them to swirl in the right direction.

The result was the legendary FEMI™ (F-head hemi) engine, although it did take a while to get it running properly. Or at all, actually. In order to do so, the hemi’s ports had to be reversed, which complicated manifolding manifold. The result was intakes and carbs on both sides of the engine, which in the case of the HO twelve-SU carb version was quite a sight to behold. Never mind synchronizing them. But eventually, things were (sort-of) sorted out; just don’t ask about thermal efficiency, BMEP, or fuel consumption. But it had a highly distinctive exhaust sound. What else is there?

The definitive QSTL-GKHT BO FEMI F4 226 engine, installed in the Fairlane SRL-GTO-SS-GTX-HOT coupe did what it could to motivate the big beast in Australia’s Touring Car Championships. But for all of the FEMI’s radical cylinder head, twelve carbs, and flatulent exhaust, the Fairlane was consistently spanked by the Leyland P-76. Not an easy humiliation to swallow.

The Fairlane fastback coupe was a typically crude home-brew attempt by the Australians to craft a sporty coupe body out of the Dearborn-designed sedan, as the only Torino coupe contemplated by Ford for the US market was a longer-hooded brougham-esque monster, also killed by the “Great Ford Enlightenment”, an event that has also come to be know as the Great Brougham Genocide.

Now there’s more to the story of the FEMI™. Obviously, the full-on version would have been too wild for the tame sedans and utes. The flathead soldiered as the base engine, although updated a bit to make 110 hp. Given the lack of FEMI™ badges on our featured car, that’s what’s likely lurking under its long hood. Hey, don’t laugh; Chevy would soon be fielding a V8 in the US with 110 hp.

But there were also two intermediate stages that used the FEMI™ head, but didn’t fully utilize the full potential of its breathing. The SEMI-FEMI™ used the hemi’s intake valve, and the flathead’s exhaust. The other two valves were just not actuated. It developed between 120 and 135 hp, and was a popular step up from the flathead.

A more ambitious undertaking was the BI-FEMI™, which utilized a valve deactivation scheme whereby the extra two valve came on line as the engine passed its torque peak, to improve its top end. It proved to be a troublesome machine, and has been generally avoided. An even more ambitious undertaking, dubbed the CROSS-FEMI™, involved various activation cycles of all four valves, to allow the full range of possibilities, from pure flathead operation, mixed, hemi and full FEMI™. It never quite made it to production, probably thankfully.

The interior of the ZXGLQ-FU Series Fairlane is a disaster, a dark cave much more cramped than the car’s overall size and weight might suggest. The US Torino that was built in its place had substantially more usable space despite being a full two feet shorter, never mind its BMW-esque design. But what were the poor Australians supposed to do about it? Sucking Detroit’s rear teat, as usual.

The Fairlane story is a long one, that hasn’t ended yet. Ford’s neglect of its Aussie ops became endemic; essentially they were cut totally off from any more technology or design transfers, cut loose to sink or swim. How about treading water? This has resulted in Australia’s famous living fossils, none more so than the Fairlane. Here is an almost-new 2010 model of a Fairlane ZZZZYX Series, shot and sent to us by our intrepid Bryce. As you can see, its evolution has followed a curious path, kind of like the platypus, which it rather resembles.

In what can only be seen as a sign of defiance, the Australians picked up the whole Brougham theme that had been so totally eradicated from Dearborn, and embraced it wholly. The fact that there were several warehouses full of Brougham badges to be had for the cost of shipping may have played into it initially, but it doesn’t take a psychologist to see what’s going on down under, especially as they’re still at it forty years later.

But for us enthusiasts, Ford Australia’s parallel reality automotive evolution offers a wonderful glimpse into what could have been our own reality. Imagine actually living through the Great Brougham Epoch before it was cut short. And seeing cars like this on the streets in your town. A scary thought indeed, but then horror has always had a certain appeal.

Perhaps Paul is taking the piss out of Ford US for their woeful treatment of Ford Australia. The fact that Ford Aus builds the FG Falcon (a RWD large monocoque sedan with 4 cyl ecoboost, 6 cyl, 6 cyl turbo or Supercharged 5.0L quad cam V8 )and it will die by 2016 in part due to Ford US’s total unwillingness to let the Falcon be exported around the world, particularly America.

Wishful thinking on Paul’s part- The 1972 Torino was NOT sent to Austrailian purgatory. Instead, we poor Americans were saddled with this styistic mismash, a car that moved back in time by embracing body-on-frame construction (the previous Torino embraced up to date unibody construction).

However, the ’72 Torino delivered in the sales department, markedly improving Ford’s intermediate market share. In addition, the 2 door model of this platform became the basis for the 1977 Thunderbird, a very profitabe product at a time when profits were hard to find.

You know Paul, you didn’t mention the most famous Australian Fairlane: the 1972-and-five-eighths SEMI-CROSS-FEMI Fair-superdoubletriplemegamastercruiser-lane. What a sight to behold it was! A masterpiece of sheer magnificence! Although they rarely come onto the market now, below is a sneak peek at a lesser version that’s on trademe at the moment. Not as splendiferous as the wonderous beasts you showed us above, but fantabulicious none-the-less:

It is? Oh rats, I knew I shouldn’t have opened that second bottle of fine Australian Penfolds shiraz. The Mecury Montego wasn’t generally available new here, except for the rare 10A rotary-engined convertible station wagon variant. But we did get its close continental cousin, the Austin Montego – why, if you google the images you’ll see they’re practically identical twins! So much magnificence to oggle, so little time…!

That’s where Ford Australia got the idea for the front-end styling of the 1972-75 Fairlanes. The Mercury Montego didn’t have indicators on the leading edge of the fender for one thing. It also didn’t have tail lights that went full width at the rear. I used to have one with a 351 Cleveland. Most of us have a story of two about a car we regret selling and this was one of mine.

Oregon is where the good stuff grows.
I never could understand why Ford chose to tool up 2 different front facias
for these-I get it that they wanted to differentiate the appearance between this fleet special and the “Gran” models, but it seems like a misallocation of resources to me.
These cars represent the absolute nadir of Ford IMHO. Even worse than a Granada or a Mustang II, where there was at least a pretext of reasonable size and efficiency. Which of it’s grievous offences do you start with in a critique of this, this,..abomination? Could it be the alarming levels of rust propensity? Or the interior size to exterior ratio, especially on 2 doors,and including the trunk? Or the fact that it was almost impossible to see out of said interior? Made worse by the ridiculous 1972-only seat design, in which each and every variant sported high-backs, even the taxi ones like this.
Or is it the voracious fuel consumption, with the possible exception of the 302, in which case the poor little plant is overwhelmed by the piggish curb weight. There were signs of cost-cutting everywhere on these, from the plastic interior trim bits to the extreme decontenting of standard features,
Example 1, base models still included rubber taxi floors in a era when carpeting was rapidly becoming the norm.
Example 2, even on the top-level Brougham models, not a single courtesy light was included, not even a glove-box light. Only the front doors actuated the chintzy single dome light. This cheapness even carried over to the later ’77 & up T-Birds. Rectified by ordering the “Light Group”, which included nifty spot lights on the dome light.
Example 3, said Brougham models only had a single-tone horn, just like a Maverick or Pinto.
I loathe these things, in case you hadn’t figured that out already.

“Please sit down, Mrs. Niedermeyer. It seems that your husband has suffered some sort of severe psychological break, most likely triggered by a sudden flashback of an extremely unpleasant memory from his youth.”

“Well, doctor, he does write about cars as a hobby and there was a 1972 Torino up on his monitor when this all came about. He had a job at a Ford dealer in the early 1970s, too. I don’t think he liked these very much.”

“Well, Maam, that could certainly explain it. I have treated some other patients who have had bad 1970s Ford flashbacks. Fortunately, they survive in such small numbers, that it is a fairly rare occurrence. Just put him to bed for a few days. What ever you do, do NOT let him watch Clint Eastwood’s movie Gran Torino.”

Mrs. Niedermeyer wants me to thank you for your excellent diagnosis. I’m staying in for a couple of days, except for some time sitting in the backyard watching the chickens. They’re very therapeutic.

Regarding your comment about these cars surviving in small numbers. I had never seen any Torinos of this vintage, until I stumbled on the Brougham: As I was finishing up shooting it on a quiet side street, I caught a glimpse of the white ’72 Torino sedan go by on the main road. Holy Mother of Torino!

I got in my car and gave it chase, and caught up with it in a parking lot. And I have never seen these cars again. I can prove it: they’re on the same folder of my pictures, right next to each other. Can you blame me for coming down with a case of Torino mania? It is May, you know.

My parents had a ’73 Torino wagon for several years–experiencing that (even secondarily, as a kid) cured any tendency toward “Torino mania” ever developing in my case. What a heavy, ugly piece of crap.

In what has to be one of the great acts of divine intervention, my mother was spared from a 1974 Gran Torino sedan. A dark brown one with tan interior and a 302, it sat on the showroom floor in the summer of 1974. After a drive, she was prepared to settle for it (the Olds dealer could not get any more 74 Cutlass 4 doors as it was the end of the model year.) She agreed to buy it, but wanted to see if a friend was interested in buying her 72 Cutlass Supreme coupe instead of a trade-in, so we left without signing any paperwork.

The next day, shortly before she came home from work, the salesman called and left the message that the car had been sold earlier that day, so there would be no reason to come in, and he would put her uncashed deposit check in the mail.

My mother was absolutely livid, and eventually bought a maroon 74 Luxury LeMans instead. Had fate not intervened, I am quite certain that she would have been so soured on Fords by that Gran Torino that she would never have become the happy owner of two Crown Vics.

Also, I am in complete agreement with Roger628 on the two separate front ends on these cars. The 72 base Torino looked cheap, and the 73 looked positively horrible.

My parents had a 1972 Mercury Montego; close relatives owned a 1973 AMC Matador. The two had similar exterior dimensions but the Matador had an “old-school” design — tall, boxy and utilitarian.

The Montego, in contrast, reflected the latest design trends. The four door had an early rendition of the sedan-coupe look, with a low roofline and frameless door glass. Perhaps more importantly, designers declared all out war on boxiness. The side windows and rocker panels arched radically inward, and the trunk’s corners were shaved off. Even the more formal front eschewed straight lines; a flimsy bumper was shaped like a “w.”

The result was a car that had much less interior and trunk space than the Matador — perhaps even as little as a compact. But it did have all of the trappings of American-style luxury, including the seclusion of a faux landau roofline and a squishy smooth ride.

It’s too bad that AMC threw money down a rat hole with its 1974 Matador coupe, which in most respects mimicked the styling trends apparent in my parent’s Montego. The Matador sedan’s basic platform could have been updated — and downsized a bit — into a Ford Granada-style super compact of sorts. Recall that the Matador’s body originated with the almost European 1963 Rambler Classic.

Instead AMC played follow the leader. And lost its independence shortly thereafter.

Back in the real world, Australia *is* a bit like a parallel universe for car fans from abroad – I remember marvelling at the giant cousins of European Fords and Opel/Vauxhalls from my childhood while down under.

While it’s a shame for the US motorists that Paul’s trippy alternate 70s reality wasn’t the case, I’ll bet the Aussies are thanking their lucky stars that Ford and GM sent as much from Europe as they did from the States… they seem to have a knack for getting the best out of both.

There was a version of this car that was sold in English speaking countries (other than the U.S. and Canada). It was the Ford Quaver Hemidemisemi (FEMI optional). It was aimed specifically at musicians.

As a pianist I immediately require one of your afore-mentioned vehicles to become my daily steed. All we ever got here in right-hand-drive NZ were the Hondas Prelude and Concerto – I’m always searching for the unseen rarity the Concerto In F# Minor (trim option with specially non-melodic horns).

It’s an alternate reality down under: the cars look so familiar, yet they’re obviously different. It’s like running into members of one’s family in the the boonies, but with some kind of a genetic problem.

That FEMI is pure genius! Four valves and off-the-shelf. I’m glad you didn’t try to clean up the engineering drawing, it’s pure madness as it is. You really are obsessed with inline sixes, Paul. Twelve SUs! With all the plumbing. Now that would be a sight.

It’s an awful shame the Great Ford Enlightenment didn’t come to pass. Those trim Aussie and Euro Fords would have brightened up the seventies considerably. I have never understood why Ford waited decades to bring proper small cars over from Europe and build them here.

The funny thing is, I remember when these came out. Around virtually all of the adults in my life at the time, the 72 Gran Torino was considered to be a beautiful and luxurious and desirable car. And when the 73 came out with the patented Ford chrome log bumper, there was another nearly universal reaction: That Ford had simply ruined what had been a beautiful car.

I also recall that the bodies on these seemed quite solid when they came out. Nobody knew that within 4 years they would suffer from huge rust holes everywhere and that every seam in the vinyl seats would be split, along with the dash pad and the armrests. I cannot tell you the last time I saw one of these.

73ImpCapn

Posted May 14, 2012 at 4:19 PM

“Around virtually all of the adults in my life at the time, the 72 Gran Torino was considered to be a beautiful and luxurious and desirable car. ”

Someday soon this will be written about the late-model Hyundai Sonata. Not that it’s a bad car, but I think its look will age badly.

The design to the Femi was sold to them by HD racing when they switched from flathead to ohv in 1970. It was outlawed for circle track by the AMA for much the same reason as the Yamaha TZ750 and Kaw Mk1. Way too much HP for the track and too much fuel consumption for the Apollo projects. Had to do something with it. Too much R & D to let it go to waste.

I’m glad someone got some use out of it. Paul, please pass the joint along please.

The ’72 plain base Torino looks a hair like Mel Gibson’s Falcon coupe in ‘Road Warrior’ and I used to think Falcons down under were just a modified Fairlanes.
Didn’t learn of the Aussie Falcon’s complete story til the internet age.

And to add, I did see a few base Torinos in 72-73, driven by elders of the time, who preferred base, bare-bone models. My great uncle had a 1972 Ford Custom, period, with an I6!

FU is fitting for this car. I love more “malaise” era cars than most, but these, no.

I’ve always wondered what would have happened if Ford started selling their Euro cars here in the mid 70s.
I always thought a 72 Granada would have been a game changer here in the States during the gas crisis.
Then I recall my Ex-Pat Brit friend talking about how the cars he grew up on were “paralyzingly boring”(he wears $2000 dollar boots and drives an F150KR). Or the two Kiwis that had a body shop specializing in high end foreign makes that drove and collected nothing but American Iron.
One man’s junk.. I guess.

There is a fundamental problem with that, in that the Granada was designed and engineered as a luxury car for Europe (even if not at the same level as a Jaguar or Mercedes), whereas in the US it would need to be a cheap car. From the very fundamentals it would cost too much to build. And the opposite is true when cars are taken in the opposite direction.

Using the a base ’72 Torino with the different front end that virtually no one remembers was a stroke of brilliance. Well played, Paul.

These were probably one of the absolute worst American cars of the era, and that’s really saying something. It was ugly, fat, slow and couldn’t handle. Then there was the pathetic build quality, dirt cheap materials and notorious rust.

My dad had a ’74 as a company car and that was enough to sour him on Ford for a couple of decades. Meanwhile my grandfather, who had a weird penchant for buying used Ford intermediates and running them completely into the ground, had a ’72 that he kept until about 1990. He wasn’t a slob or bum by any means, but that car looked ready for Jeff Lebowski when he got rid of it. Even had a board in the back seat to keep the front seat from falling down. What a piece of crap, even though it outlasted probably 98% of all other Torinos.

I Had loved the Torino in 1970…. it was svelte and stylish in a way the Fairlane had never been, nor the Falcon.

Then like the Mustang it Got fat… I Never Liked These.

Yet It is amazing How Many Different cars The Ford Based Off of This.
As for our 73 Thunderbird
I Had NO IDEA this Was a Torino and not LTD – BASED until I read it Here in The CC for The 74, T-bird. Which seemed To be about as Negatively remembered as I have seen a Malaise Mobile recieved here.

Not That There is anywhere else.

Sorry For my faux pas in THE CC Clue For The this car. I Do Love seeing New Stuff everytime I come around… Im seldom disappointed.

So Paul takes a picture of an ugly beast that looks like the unwanted child of a Studebaker Scotsman and an early Ford Maverick and comes up with this inspired bit of nonsense? I only hope that someone doesn’t use this is the basis for a History of Ford in Australia article for Wikipedia.

Honestly, one of the dumbest articles I’ve ever read, if only partially. It’s more cynical and sarcastic than humorous. Inane parody or Ford hatchet job? By a confessed Ford hater no less. Yeah, I know you shuttled Fords around in 1972 and you didn’t like them, get over it.

Proof that the Aussies were into ganja long before we were. A real deal ’52 Chevy Ute found in the parking lot at Smith’s Supermarket in Wendover, Nevada. They even put the steering wheel on the wrong side. Probably doing the same thing we were. Buying full-strength beer before heading back to the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah where only 3.2 beer is sold.

In defence of the `72Torino I have to say that I will never forget my first encounter with a `72 Gran Torino Sport as a 12-year-old kid. Living in Germany my taste for cars was heavily influenced by the cars driven by American soldiers who used to be stationed at nearby army installations in Erlangen, Nuremberg and Fürth, especially since we rented out an appartment in our house to Americans. I even made it to talk my parents into replacing their not so cool `76 Mercedes 200 with a much cooler `79 Ford Mustang in 1983, even so it only had the made-in-Cologne V6-engine. In 1984 one day my mother and I drove to Nuremberg in order to get a fresh set of wiper-blades for the Mustang at a shop that sold parts to Americans who were stationed at the nearby barracks. We parked right next to a red with yellow sidestripe and black interior `72 Gran Torino Sport Fastback. I got out of the Mustang and gazed at every detail of that car while my mother was in the parts store. I instantly fell in love with that red Torino and it was one of the mostly American cars that kept me motivated to study hard at school to get a good job later on for being able to afford a car like that and to have enough money to visit the great country that produced such fine automobiles.
So while many people may regard cars like the Ford Torino and other American cars of that aera as inferior, they still mean a lot to me.

Didn’t Ford offer those Gran Torinos in a trim and bodystyle called the Gran Torino Sport Sportsroof? I understood Sport, and I understood Sportsroof. I just never understood why you would use both on the same car.

As explained below, “SportsRoof” was Ford’s name for the fastback body style. This however, was not actually part of the name of the car, it was still just a Gran Torino Sport. No where on the car did they call it a “SportRoof”.

I understand that Sportsroof was Ford-speak for fastback, and I agree that no Sportsroof carried such a nameplate. But I vividly remember reading the brochure, and am quite sure that it depicted and labeled a car as a Gran Torino Sport Sportsroof. Even as a 12 year old, I shook my head over this.

Peter, while I visited Europe as a student around ’77, I was blown away by the Escorts & Granadas I saw there, not to mention the cool Setra coach (below) I rode in. So the grass is always greener on the other side…

Yes, I guess Ford called the Gran Torino “Fastback” a “Sportsroof”, just like Ford did with the ´71 – ´73 Mustang. A Gran Torino Sport Sportsroof was a Gran Torino with the “Sport” – trim and the “Sportsroof” – bodystyle, whereas a Gran Torino Sport without the “Sportsroof” designation featured the formal-roof two-door body.

These Torino’s get an unfair bad rap, especially by those who have never actually owned one. They really weren’t bad cars, but they were hardly revolutionary. They really amounted to a fullsize Ford chassis being downsized, putting an updated rear suspension and a new trendy body. Other than that, chassis-wise there was nothing new, and it was essentially the same basic design Ford came up with in 1965 for its fullsize cars.

The magazines in 1972 rated it well. The Torino was picked over the much loved Chevelle by Motor Trend, and given a second place finish in a Charger vs Chevelle vs GTO vs Torino test (the Charger was first). Even Car and Driver and Uncle Tom gave the car’s favorable reviews and Car Guide selected it as a best buy.

In terms of reliability, these cars were fine as there was nothing really new in them . The major issue was they rusted badly, but this was a problem for all Ford’s of this vintage relating more to the steel than the design. Maybe Ford went too far in searching for that soft ride (which it did achieve), but this was a problem with all Ford’s of this time. And the optional HD or Competition suspension really made these cars handle decently.

They got a bit bigger, but if you compare a 1971 to a 1972 Torino, there really isn’t much size difference. Torino’s were huge in 1971 too. Compared to other intermediates of the time, it wasn’t off base. Mopars were huge in 1972 too, the GM’s were smaller but they dated to 1968. The new 1973 GMs were big, and all GM, Ford and Mopars were not space efficient. The Torino was certainly comparable to all in terms of room, and space efficiency.

Styling-wise, I think this car was styled as a 2-door first, as it wears the styling the best, especially the fastback. It didn’t translate as well on the 4-door cars, but all American intermediates seem to have the same issue in this time. I think that this was the best car for Ford in 1972, how can you argue with almost half- a million cars sold and outselling Chevy for the first time ever (and in 1973 with Chevy’s new car). I am certain a more modern European style Ford would not have sold nearly as well in the 1972 North American market. The problem was times changed quickly, and by 1974 the car became quickly outdated.

It’s funny how memory tends to make things either a lot better than they were, or a lot worse as time goes on…

I can imagine our American cars being exported to Australia. Our cars are big enough to be comfortable. I’d buy an American car myself if it were driveable. I can see the styling influence between the American Ford and the Australian Ford.